Oh, show me your love
by IThinkIJustGleedMyself
Summary: A/U - He's the first one that doesn't run.


**So it's official, I've started University. Sadly, this means my updates aren't going to be as regular as they have been in the last few weeks. I will try and keep them coming at a steady pace, but please forgive me if that doesn't happen. As for this fic, it's loosely based on Penelope :)**

**Self beta'd.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Rachel Berry ignores Jesse's calling her name in favor of looking to herself in the large mirror. Sat at her curved, white vanity, she combs through her thick tresses of chocolate brown hair, before she lowers the comb, fingers instead probing the soft skin of her cheeks. Tilting the angle of her neck, she eyes herself once more, posing at herself in the mirror.<p>

Sometimes she thinks she'd be pretty if…

Delicately, those fingers travel to her nose, where the skin becomes harder, thick and wrinkled. But it's not her nose. No, her Daddy won't let her say that. It's the nose of her great great great great grandfather, on her _Papa's_ side (he's habitually give her Papa responsibility for this over the years). That being, responsibility for the curse, of course.

The one that caused her to be born with the face of a pig.

Not the _full_ face, mind you. Now that would've been a complete travesty, but as Rachel stares at herself in the mirror, she looks almost normal, if it weren't for the big, bulbous nose of a swine planted right slap bang in the middle of her face.

And really, she knows how important first impressions are. How is she supposed to make the right ones with _this_ distracting everyone? That's how she got to where she is today, separated from the contending bachelor her Daddy had chosen by a thick one sided mirror, and in her heart knowing that nobody could accept her like this, not ever.

"Rachel?" he taps on the mirror again, causing the girl to jump. She stands then, stepping over to the seat that she'd made in front of the barrier all those years ago – four years ago to be exact. Yes, for four years her parents have been matchmaking her with the help of Kurt Hummel, whose agency boasts those of the blue blood type, those that Rachel Berry belongs to.

More importantly, those that can break the curse.

You see, it'd started all those years ago, her great great great great grandfather falling in love with a lowly servant girl. And it'd been romantic and sweet and new, until suddenly she was eating for two and Arthur Berry had told his family of his plans to marry her. Laughed and mocked, he soon realized his foolishness and instead married a more suitable maiden, leading his heartbroken Clarissa to desperate measures… off a cliff.

That night, against the sweeping wind and pouring rain, her mother climbed the stairs to the Berry manor, and splattered animal guts around the house. As she did, she swore a curse on the Berry family. A curse that said the next born daughter would be born with the face of a pig, and the curse would remain until one of her own could love her.

Well, that's where Rachel comes in.

She eyes the man in the annex, perceptive eyes watching as leans ever closer, his voice a whisper. "Sweet, sweet Rachel. Words cannot express how much I've come to care you for."

Pausing, she raises her brow. "Oh really?" She can hear her voice carried through the annex by the speaker, and he gazes further into the mirror.

"You're kind and gentle, and you understand me like no one else ever has." He takes a breath, "and I understand you." When she doesn't respond, he continues, "Trapped your whole life, without a friend to relate to."

Rachel hopes that her own sigh doesn't carry though the speaker. "Trapped?" she repeats; he really doesn't have any idea what that word means to her. She's left this house a total of _six_ times in her twenty two years, and as beautiful and grand as it may be, her heart aches for her freedom.

"Yes," he nods, "my father –"

"You're trapped by your good name," she finishes for him, then adds, "and good looks. No one sees the real you."

"That's right." She leans forward, chin resting on her hand. How _nice_ it must be, she thinks, to be trapped by your good looks. He gives a soft smile, eyes gazing straight at her. "Please come out, Rachel." It's not like she hasn't heard any of this before, and her ears are growing sick of hearing it. So she stands, doing the only thing she knows that'll be rid of this chump once and for all.

He continues to softly serenade the mirror, while she travels the short difference to the secret door, pushing it open with ease. "Hello," she says in a polite voice, gaining his attention in an instant. He freezes, the smile dropping from his face and replaced with a look of complete shock. And then, _disgust_.

No matter how many times this has happened to her, Rachel still feels the pang of heartache knowing that it's her _face_ that causes people to react like that. Even so, she's relieved when he begins to run as though chased by a wild beast, screaming of pigs and monsters.

Rachel puts her heart back in place, and heads for the kitchen where no doubt her Daddy and Kurt are watching on the camera. Her Papa will be running after Jesse, in order to get him not to blab about what he saw – he's really become a lot healthier since they started the matchmaking, so many terrified blue bloods to chase after. She's happy for him.

The image of panic in Jesse's face remains burned into her retina, even as she steps inside the kitchen and hurries for her vegan ice cream. "What possibly compelled you to do that sweetheart?" Her Daddy's exasperated tone comes behind her, Kurt stood beside the man. "He _liked_ you."

"He did not like me, Daddy." She insists; he probably liked the dowry that's offered with her hand in marriage. Honestly, men are _all_ the same.

He sighs as she moves to get a spoon. "How are you supposed to get one of these men to marry you if you keep throwing yourselves at them, Rachel?

"Throwing myself?" she asks in annoyance. "I did nothing of the sort. I showed him my _face_."

"Rachel," he sighs.

She tugs herself away as he tries to pull her into a hug, "I don't want to hear it."

"One of these days one will –"

"None of them will stay, Dad. They'll run. They _always_ run." Her gaze lowers, her expression nothing short of crestfallen, "am I really that hideous?"

"No!" comes their simultaneous reply.

Her Daddy finally manages to hug her now, kissing her forehead. "It isn't your nose, remember that."

"But it is my nose."

"No, sweetheart –"

"Daddy," she tries, though she knows it's fruitless. There's a small mirror hung by the door, and she catches sight of herself, her nose staring back at her. She can feel it securely placed on her face, how it moves when she breathes, and how it _is_ her nose.

But – "No, Rachel. It's the nose of your great great great great grandfather. And don't you forget it." She bows her head, leaning into his embrace, but she's far from comforted.

Moments later, her Papa jogs back into the room, clearly trying to catch his breath back. Leaning one hand on the table, he gives them a look that is _not_ good. "I couldn't catch him." Instantly her Daddy is in a fluster.

"You see, this is why we should make them sign the contracts _before_ they go to the annex," Kurt says.

"Or maybe we should just stop this matchmaking thing altogether and buy me ten cats to live the rest of my life out with."

Her Daddy's face is a picture, before it practically seeps sympathy, "sweetheart."

"I know," she tucks some hair behind her ear, "we'll just have to keep trying." Her Daddy instantly untucks it, because she knows all too well that he prefers if when it's down, covering her ears as well – which are just another thing to thank the curse for.

Rachel reaches for her ice cream, "I'm going to my room." She doesn't give them a chance to continue the discussion, and instead she's fully ready to go and sulk in her room with Barbra to comfort her and endless musicals to watch.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure what you saw?" Artie asks the man very clearly. Really, it must be fate – it's almost twenty two years since he lost the use of his legs in the accident he'd endured while trying to get a picture of the elusive Rachel Berry, a baby supposed cursed with the face of a pig. And <em>still<em> he doesn't have it, only nightmares of her terrifying father.

And then as he'd made his way to work, some left wing Momma's boy had shown up ranting about a pig girl. Without hesitation, Artie had called him into his office, even with the looks that his co-workers had been giving him. Fine, they can think whatever the hell they want. In the end, he's gonna be the one the break the story.

"I know what I saw," Jesse insists, eyes widening in abject horror. "She had a snout… and fangs!"

"Fangs?" He marvels. Inside, his excitement brews away. He knew that it was just all _too_ convenient for the girl that the world wanted to see to die at such a young age, and here he is, being proved right. He gives himself a figurative pat on the back. Good goin', Abrams. Now, he needs to expose the story, then comes the big bucks.

Jesse leans forward, "I feared for my life, Artie."

"She tried to _kill_ you?" He asks in disbelief.

"No – I got out of there before she got that far. Who knows what could've happened." The dramatic ramblings of Jesse has Artie internally rolling his eyes, but he keeps his interest showing. This man may be an idiot, but he's the only lead to the story that could break the big time for him.

Resting on his elbows, he knocks him down with a hard stare. "We need a picture, Weston. We need this girl's face on every newspaper in New York, in the _world_!" He narrows his eyes, "could you go back in there?"

"_Back_? To that monster?"

"Jesse –"

He shakes his head vehemently. "I won't do it. Besides, they wouldn't want me back anyway, seeing as I got away. Before they could do God knows what with me."

Artie sighs; _of course_ it's not going to be that easy. "Then we need to hire someone."

"Good luck with that," he scoffs, "They only want blue bloods. Something about the curse – I didn't think it was real at first. You know, maybe it was just a figure of speech… but you haven't seen this _thing_."

"Then we'll find one," Artie stops him before he gets ahead of himself. There's a reason he avoids these type of assholes when doing stories. But this is one he just can't let pass up. Besides, he has to take pity on the guy. Apparently he'd been ranting and raving at the police station all yesterday, leading to an article about his nervous breakdown – something someone next in line as chairman to his father's company does really _not_ need.

"And where are we going to get one?"

He frowns, "what sort of operation is this that we're talking about?"

"I – it's through an agency, offering a great big dowry to marry her. They take you to the house, send you to this room. And you talk to her through the mirror… to think I thought she was _nice –"_

"What's the agency?" Artie cuts through his sentence.

"Uh, Kurt Hummel. He's supposed to be the best, which is why my father sent me." He then frowns, "but we aren't going to be able to find someone willing to do this, not for money. They already have it."

Artie smirks then, his eyes adopting a knowing glint. He vaguely recalls an article his buddy Rory had done on some down and out ex-millionaires, ones who've squandered their fortune. And one sticks to mind, one right here in New York. "Not all of them do."

* * *

><p>Finn Hudson rubs his tired eyes, yet it does nothing to shake off the feeling of exhaustion, both mental and physical. He throws in the last of his chips, so tired he doesn't even smile as Puck makes another joke about his current girlfriend.<p>

He's relieved when they games come to an end for the night – or morning, maybe. Whatever time it is. His brain can barely function in this dark room, and he stumbles a little on his feet as he stands. Jealously, he eyes Puck grinning and pocketing all of is winning, when he doesn't even have a damn chip to his name.

"See you losers tomorrow," Puck grins, smacking Finn on the back. "Let's see if you can actually win anything next time." He forces a smile, though he tenses when he feels a pair of eyes on him. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds a man in a wheelchair watching, his expression thoughtful, but Finn then shakes his head. There's a bunch of weirdos in here.

With that, he heads toward the exit just as a voice, clear as day, speaks out. "Noah Puckerman?"

Curiously, he turns again. It's the same man, readjusting his thick rimmed glasses and looking to Finn determinedly. "You've uh, you've got the wrong guy," he says.

"Oh come on," he says, "don't do that."

His lips move into a thin line, "I'm not interested in… whatever you want. Sorry."

Then he says something that causes Finn to stall. "I can make it worth your while." As he looks at him this time, he spies the cash in his hand, eyes widening slightly. That's a _lot_ of money. But then, he's looking for a different guy, and it'd totally be a douche move to lie to him. Still, he eyes the money. And in spite of his shame, he turns around and starts talking toward the man.

Two hours later and he finds himself walking up to his van (this is a little weird, maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all) which opens to reveal his new pal Artie and some sour faced guy, who introduces himself as Jesse. "You're late," Jesse grumbles.

"I showed up, didn't it?" he snaps back. He finds himself sighing, eager to finish this job and just be done with it… with a big wad of cash in his back pocket. That's why he's doing this, he reminds himself. He doesn't care about this crazy guy going on about some curse.

"Here's your jacket," Artie offers, "now the camera is here at your breast pocket, so just be careful when you move. If you want to take a picture lift either of your arms, alright?"

He does so experimentally, then again with his other arm. The sensation of the camera working is a little odd to Finn, and he finds his movement to be awkward with the wires, but it'll do.

"Hey, you're wasting my film," Artie says. "And… come on, comb your hair. You want to look nice, don't you?"

Finn shakes his head, "I don't even know what's supposed to happen."

"Just say that you're with the agency," he explains, handing over a sheet of paper full of fake details. Fin's impressed. "And all we need is a picture of the girl. We get it, you get the rest of the money." He nods, then stares up at the grand house, "so what's the deal again?"

Jesse steps forward, his eyes wide, "she's cursed. They told me the only way they can break it is for her to marry a blue blood. At first you think it's only a figure of speech but –"

"Alright, I get it," he stops him before he pops a blood vessel. Though this is all a little too Disney for him, he knows that one day of work is pretty damn good for one thousand bucks.

"Go get 'er, Noah." He pats his back, causing Finn to clear his throat a little uncomfortably. He sets off toward the manor, eyes wide and nerves settling in, but in all honesty he's just glad to be away from Jesse. A butler lets him inside, where he's instantly bombarded by a tall man – but nowhere near as tall as him - with his hair styled perfect, not a piece out of place. Blue eyes scrutinize him.

He frowns, "we weren't expecting anyone else today."

"The agency sent me." It's difficult to keep the nerves from his voice, and he hopes he can get away with it being because of his first meeting with this Rachel. He looks a little confused, but accepts the information anyway, eyes glancing over it.

Eventually he smiles, "hi Noah, I'm Kurt. Now if you would like to follow me we have the lovely lady waiting." He does follow, eying up the austere décor of the house. Finn can't even imagine how much wealth is in the house alone, the furniture and antiques must be words thousands. Maybe millions. Distracted, he absentmindedly sighs a form given to him by Kurt and is then placed in a snug room, the wall lines with bookcases. In the middle a soft couch sits, and Finn adopts a place on it, while he stares forward at the large mirror.

"She'll be with you shortly," Kurt smile, closing the door after him.

He feels his heart beginning to race, doubts creeping forward. Maybe he shouldn't have done this… he's not some blue blood, he's just looking for a quick deal and that's that. But he does sort of feel bad for getting dragged into whatever whole mess this is – it's so strange. A curse? The face of a pig, Artie had said when they'd first met.

No matter how hard he tries to imagine it, he just ends up telling himself it's impossible. Okay, maybe she's not the most attractive person in the world, but the face of a pig? Come on!

He waits and he waits. Then he waits a little more.

Time passes slowly, and Finn paces the room a little at first. This delay is doing _nothing_ to calm his conscience, and a couple of seconds later he's reaching for a door handle when a voice calls out. "Where are you going?"

Finn jumps, spinning on the spot. There's no one there, but at the same time the voice had sounded artificial, too. He narrows his eyes, spying a speaker in the corner. "Where are you?"

"Look at the mirror," the voice says, soft and patient. He instantly takes a liking to it.

"So I, uh – I'm assuming you're Rachel?" Finn returns to the center of the room, eyes glued to the mirror. Though he can only see himself – and what a sad, tired sight that is today – there's no sign of this girl.

"Yes, that's me." Rachel says, voice strong.

He gives a wry smile, "what took you so long to get here? It's rude to keep people waiting, you know." There's no answer. But he puts it together in his head. While he can't see her, she can most probably see him through this mirror, "oh, you were watching me?" He turns to look around the room, "smart."

"I was trying to get a feel from you," she defends herself.

Finn smiles, though a little sadly. "You were judging me."

"No I was not I – I don't _judge_ people."

"Everyone judges people," Finn says then, moving closer to the mirror, only to be met with more silence.

"When you judge others –"

"You do not define them, you define yourself." Finn finished for her, smiling into the mirror.

She stutters, "h-how do you know that quote?"

"What?" he grins, and then feigns a well-spoken accent, "do you think me uncultured, Rachel?" A pause, "it's ah - it's hung in that picture right over there. I was a little bored waiting for you, so please forgive me for getting curious."

"I'm sorry," she says, "for making you wait."

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure you've had a busy day." For a minute, he wonders how many men have been in this exact situation. Just how many Jesse's have there been, and if the answer is lots, then he struggles to see why. She seems nice enough. "But I do have to go in a few minutes," he looks to his watch, "you only get me for the hour, sorry."

"Will you be back?" she asks, "tomorrow, will you be back?"

Finn doesn't know why he's suddenly smiling. "Yeah, I will."

* * *

><p>Rachel eagerly sits herself in front of the mirror today, the second she hears from her daddy that Noah is there and waiting for her. She isn't sure why there's the sudden excitement, but she trusts her instincts. And after the years of seeing a rotisserie of men in and out of that door, she can tell whether they're good news or not.<p>

Noah is – she can't figure him out. He looks nothing like the usual type that she sees, with that sweet half smile, and those adorable dimples. Noah doesn't even bother sitting down today; he starts exploring first thing. She watches him peer into the large display cases, eyes squinting as he tries to figure out the collection of family heirlooms and things picked up from her parents' travels.

But at one point he bangs his head on one of the shelves, reacting in the cutest way. She can't help herself as she giggles, the sound moving over the speaker system. His head snaps up. "Are you watching me again?"

She blushes, "no, I – um, yes I was."

"Am I fun to watch?" he grins.

"Well, you… I was just curious, okay? You are different to what I usually get. So forgive me for being inquisitive."

He suddenly frowns, "what you normally get?"

"Hmm," she agrees, "and it's a _long_ list." Her heart sinks a little as she thinks of the array of men that she's had here since she was eighteen. "Oh, but I probably shouldn't tell you that."

"And why not?"

"Because you'll wonder what's wrong with me." She's glad he can't see the hurt crossing her features, "or you'll wonder how bad it is."

Noah steps forward, eyes scrutinizing every inch of the mirror before him, "what's wrong with you?" The more the looks, the more self-conscious she feels, and despite knowing that there's _no_ possible way he could see her, she finds herself hiding her nose behind her arm. "Rachel?" he taps on the glass.

She jumps a little, then clears her throat. "The curse. Remember?"

He gives a small smile, one that causes her heart to leap and skip. "I'm not so good with remembering."

"Well it's something that's not easy to forget," she says. _She's tried._

Noah pauses, and she watches him fill with conflict for a moment. "So, Rachel Berry, tell me about yourself." She frowns when he doesn't respond in the way she'd expected, but as always is more than happy to talk about herself.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well…" he peers around the room, then points to the piano, "is that yours?" He plays a short melody.

A genuine smile creeps onto her lips, "do you play?"

"The piano," he chuckles, "not much, no. I've picked up a little in my years."

She raises her brow, "but… you do play something."

He pauses, "you think so?"

"I know so," she affirms, "what is it?"

He surprises her once again with another sweet smile. "You'll have to guess."

"Excuse me?"

"Guess."

"Hey, you can't do that –"

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"No, it's won't," he chuckles, "You can't just make me play a bunch of instruments."

"I can and I will." She gives a firm nod, though she knows that he can't see. Still, her voice holds the command. He looks to the mirror, the corner of his eyebrow quirking.

"Oh really?"

* * *

><p>Finn laughs as she tells him to stop once again, asking for the saxophone to be removed from the room. He must've tried seven or eight things by now, and he'd purposely played bad on the drums to throw her off a little. Finn chuckles to himself a little at that; this is more fun than he's had in months. Breathless, he helps the guys pack up the things before turning to look at Rachel, or the mirror. He grins, "Is there anything else that you want me to try?"<p>

There's a pause, "do you want to have a go on the piano?

"But I already told you that I play it," he smirks toward her. "You're cheating."

"No, I just – I want to see how good you are."

"Are you worried that I'll be better than you?"

He can't help but grin at the gasp that follows. "Absolutely not. I have been able to play the piano since I was five years old, along with the harp, flute and clarinet, just to name a few."

"Where did you find the time?" he jokes, realizing his mistake just as she goes quiet. His shoulders slump, "oh sorry."

"No it's – it's fine. I mean, I'm used to it by now so…"

Finn steps closer to the mirror now, perching himself on a cabinet next to it. "Doesn't meant that you have to like it." More silence. "Is there any place you really want to see?"

"It's going to sound stupid," she sighs.

"No it won't… I promise."

"…I've been told Central Park is amazing, especially in the fall. Maybe one day I'll go there. There's a Romeo and Juliet statue, I'd love to see it." Rachel hesitates, "is the park nice?"

He feels his heart go out to her, and he wishes more than anything that he could let her out of this house. "Yeah… it's beautiful." His eyes than hold something she can't quite decipher, "you shouldn't be stuck in this house, you know. There's a whole world out there for you to see."

"Like my dads would let me do that," she scoffs, "not until the curse is broken."

"But you don't even know when that'll be." He wishes that he could see her expression, to try and figure out what she's thinking, but he can only see his own tired eyes staring back at him, "what if it's never?"

She doesn't say anything, and he wonders if he's gone too far. That doesn't stop him, though. His heart goes out to her; he wants to help this girl. Screw Jesse and his stupid revenge, or Artie and that damn article. He couldn't care less about the camera in his jacket right now. He just wants Rachel to be happy. "What are you waiting for?" he asks, voice brimming with sadness. It remains silent, Finn's chest clenching a little. Eventually, he sighs, "Though to be honest you only really enjoy stuff if you're dealt the right cards in life. And ah, I wasn't so lucky."

"Well… I know that feeling too." The return of her voice makes him smile, even if it is laced with melancholy.

There's a solemn moment of peace between the two, before Rachel seems to put any of her worries on the back shelf and return to her normal self. "So Noah, piano. Now."

"You're so demanding," he says with a half-smile.

"Just eager to hear you."

"Alright," he slowly steps over to the instrument, taking a seat on the softly padded bench. Though it's well maintained, he can tell that the piano is used often. He wiggles his fingers, which earns a giggle from Rachel, and starts to play one of the few songs he knows. It's simple, perhaps a little too simple for something capable of so much, but he likes it. But his rustiness soon comes into play – he hasn't performed on the piano in a few months – and he hits a couple of the wrong notes.

He can practically hear her wince, "no you're doing it wrong." He does it again, on purpose this time, "Noah, no. It's the other one."

"Like this?" he throws a grin over his shoulder and hits a couple of random keys.

"Noah!"

"Okay, okay," he looks down to the keys and tries to remember the next note, this time failing from his lack of practise.

Suddenly there are a pair of hands on his, guiding him softly to the right position. "Look, this one stays here, and then the other plays these three keys." Her touch is light, leaving a tingling on his skin that causes Finn to shiver. When he plays the sweet note, his smile grows and his eyes follow the hand, and the arm, up to their owner.

His flinch is completely involuntary, eyes widening not in horror, but complete surprise and curiosity. The curse, he thinks, it's _real_. He can't tear his gaze away from her face, from the nose. It's completely surreal, and he wants to pinch himself to make sure he's not dreaming. She's… she has a pig's nose and – crap, Jesse wasn't lying. There _is_ a curse. She seems to be frozen in the spot, staring back to him from where she'd stumbled backwards with her own wide eyes and panting breath. His heart breaks when he sees the fear in her expression, because the thought of doing anything to hurt her makes him sick. She looks so… so… _vulnerable_.

He doesn't realize when he steps closer, wanting to see clearer, to convince himself that what he's seeing is real. Because there's no way – is there? Nearing her now, he begins to lift his arm, only for that stupid camera to go off. "Shit!" he cries out, tugging his arm down so that he doesn't take anymore.

But that causes Rachel's expression to crumple, the words, "I'm a monster," shooting out of her lips before he can tell her otherwise. She sprints off then, back into the open door and away from him, while he watches after her with an aching chest.

What has he done?

Shame burns at his skin, and he makes to leave the room himself, to get out of her. His head is spinning, chest in pain, and he feels shackled by guilt. He's sure that he can hear voices in the distance, maybe one belonging to Rachel, but he carries on walking, right until he reaches the van again.

"Did you get it?" Artie asks excitedly.

"Yeah, I got it," he nods, ripping the camera from the jacket and throwing it to a heap on the floor. It clatters to the ground in pieces, much to the horror of the two men.

Jesse's instantly pissed, "what the hell are you doing?"

Finn suddenly remembers all he'd said about her, calling Rachel a monster himself, and he loses it. He yanks him out of the van by the collar of his shirt, eyes dark and voice low. "You leave her alone. I don't want you going anywhere near Rachel. She's a thousand times better than you." Jesse squirms against him, managing to break free a little and throw a punch. Finn dodges it, then throws him back into the van. His eyes maintain their warning; nobody is going to fucking hurt that girl while he's around.

He hears people shouting after him, watching as Kurt and a man he presumes is one of Rachel's dads stepping out of the house in pursuit. But they stop dead in their tracks when they see Artie. "Close the gate," the older man says, face firm, then repeats more harshly, "close the gate, Kurt."

The next thing Finn knows he's running toward it, lifting himself over in one easy motion. He can't leave it like that with Rachel. He just _can't_.

"Rachel!" he cries out through the huge house, "Rachel, where are you?"

"Noah?"

He spins, finding her a few meters away with tears rolling down her cheeks and those same wide, chocolate eyes. "Look, Noah. I know I'm – you couldn't possibly accept me like this, but if we were married the curse would disappear. I swear."

"Rachel, you're –"

"I know, Noah," she says so sadly that it breaks his heart, "but I can change. I will change. Just, please."

And he wishes he could. He wishes with his whole heart that he had to power the break this curse that she hates so much, but he isn't a blue blood. Nowhere near that. "I-I can't." He says, hating the way she practically collapses in on herself with sobs, and he can only stare at her until rough hands are dragging him out of the house. He doesn't care. All he can see is Rachel crying.

* * *

><p>Her daddy's words are persistent, haunting. <em>I'll never give up sweetheart. <em>Rachel scrunches her eyes shut, trying to evade the sentence over and over, but it's to no avail. And the pain is her heart is just as loud as the words in her head, until the point where tears are pushing through again and falling onto her bed sheets.

_Never_. He'd said.

As much as she'll joke about it, the thought of being stuck here for the rest of her life is completely and utterly terrifying, to have so much opportunity in the world only to be stopped by one thing. By her _appearance_.

Because no one will marry her; no one can accept her like this, not even _herself_.

She cries until her throat is raw and her eyes feel heavy, but it's done nothing to remove the ache in her heart. She can't keep doing this. Especially not now – when the only hope she ever had at finding a husband to break the curse crushed everything right in front of her very face. With two very simple words_. I can't. _Even with the promise of a broken curse, he just couldn't marry her.

And if Noah couldn't then… then there's no hope. She's going to be stuck here for the rest of her life.

But she – she can't let that happen. There's too much for her to see, the world is too big for her to spend it all moping around her home and waiting for someone to free her.

No, she has to free herself. Whether her fathers like it or not – and in spite of the fear treading inside her stomach.

The newly formed idea beginning to grow, she rushes and starts packing a bag with any clothes she can get her hands on. She frantically pushes them inside and fights to get the bag closed. Carefully, she tiptoes out of her room, knowing that by now her Daddy will be in his study, though it's her Papa she needs to avoid.

Downstairs, she hurriedly places on her red coat, and then wraps a scarf around herself, careful to cover her nose. As she's walking past a mirror, she has to stop and look at herself. She looks… normal. Like she could fit in. It's that which gives her the strength to go through with this, sneakily taking her Daddy's credit card and then heading for the back door.

"Rachel?"

She inwardly curses, all breath sucked out of her lungs. "Yes, Papa?"

"What're you doing?"

"I'm – just making some cocoa."

"Oh, will you make me a mug too, Princess?" Hands shaking on the door handle, she allows herself to smile when she realizes that she isn't going to be caught out, and her freedom hasn't been nipped in the bud.

She doesn't hesitate, "of course Papa."

That gives her the extra few minutes that she needs, throwing a hastily written goodbye letter on the table and reaching for her bag. But she doesn't even look back as she runs toward the gate and away from her home.

* * *

><p>The dim light has Finn squinting to see his cards, while he sucks in a breath of smoky air. He can barely focus, him game suffering more than usual, and he watches emotionlessly as he loses yet another set. He rakes a hand through his dishevelled hair, trying not to think about Rachel.<p>

But the more he tries not to, the more it inevitably happens. His heart is torn, and he wants nothing more than to go back to that house and tell her exactly why he can't marry her, why he can't take the curse away. And that's what she wants most in the world. Not him. But to be normal. He feels sick as he remembers her words about not being able to love her, chest clenching tightly. Head turning away from the table briefly, he suddenly freezes. In the distance his eyes manage to catch sight of the newspaper headline, something that causes his blood to run cold.

_Have you seen this pig?_ It asks, a horrific artistic representation shown beside it, with wrinkles and fangs, and while he wants to punch whoever the hell drew it, but he also has more _pressing_ matter to get to.

Like the fact that she's escaped. Rachel has _escaped_. He goes from being ecstatic for her to terrified in a matter of seconds. She's out – probably alone and scared in a City that she's never walked through before. Ignoring the ongoing game, he jumps to his feet and yanks his jacket off the chair, not so much as a goodbye to the other players before he's out of the door.

Frantic thoughts course through his mind, as he desperately thinks how to find her. Well, you know, she does have a _pig's_ nose, but she's smart. She'll have covered herself up properly. Yet he also knows that she's passionate, in love with the world that she's never been granted the chance to have it love her back yet. He closes his eyes, not caring how stupid he looks, and forces himself to relive their conversations. _Anything_ to give him a clue.

Then – _"I've been told Central Park is amazing, especially in the fall. Maybe one day I'll go there. There's a Romeo and Juliet statue, I'd love to see it." _

He goes back and forth; it's totally a long shot. You know, she's just finally broken free of being house bound, the last place she wants to go to is a statue. But god, it's all he can think of.

Finn's not close to there either, so it's going to be one hell of a run. He just… he has to go. Whether it's to defend his case to her, or to genuinely look after her, he doesn't know. Maybe it's both. He hurries through the City, ignoring the dirty glares he receives as he bustles past people, and he has to stop a few times to catch his breath – and once when he feels like he's going to throw up – but then he's finally there.

Don't ask him how he knows where that statue is. He just does. And as he slows in front of it, his head swivels in every direction. He doesn't call out for her; he doesn't want to scare her or anything.

His head drops when he can't spot her, disappointment seeping into his bones. He could've sworn that she'd be here. Call it a feeling or whatever. He spins on the spot, eyes straining and heart pounding, and then – wait, that's _her_. He's sure of it, more so by the large polka dot scarf covering half of the girl's face. Namely, the _nose_.

He starts running toward her.

In hindsight, that is a _bad_ idea, and he realizes that the second she starts sprinting away from him, clearly terrified. Her small hand grips onto the scarf, and she runs full pelt. He's actually impressed, because that girl has freakin' tiny legs, but he's struggling to catch up to her.

Eventually, he does. Arms wrapping around her waist, he pulls her into a stop, while she screams for him to let go of her. "Shh," he tries desperately. "I'm not going to hurt you Rachel." Although he thinks it's a bit too late for that – he can still see her face as he'd told her that he couldn't marry her.

"Let me go," she insists, the words muffled through the material.

"What are you doing? When did you get out?"

She pulls herself from his arms in a huff, pretty brown eyes boring into him. "Last night, for your information." Then she gains a sad expression, one that breaks his heart in two, "you told me to, don't you remember? 'What are you waiting for?' Does that ring any bells?"

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," he steps back, letting her go. Handing coming up to his mouth, he suddenly smiles, despite the seriousness of the situation, "holy shit – you're pretty badass."

"Badass?" Her forehead creases, "is that good or bad?"

"Good. Trust me."

Rachel narrows her eyes at him, "trust _you_? You just chased me through a park!"

"God Rach," he rubs the back of his neck a little sheepishly, "I just wanted to help you."

She looks to him in complete confusion. "Help… me?"

"Yeah, jeez. I thought you'd be more scared, you've never been in the City like this before and I just – I was worried, alright?"

"Oh," she looks down, adjusting the scarf again. "I _am_ scared. I'm terrified. But I'm _not_ going home." He doesn't blame her, not one bit. He knows what it's like to be trapped somewhere; for him it's the poker tables, and it's in dark, dingy rooms. For Rachel, sadly, her prison was also her home. And he's so fucking happy that she's here, and free, but at the same time he feels his heart clenching tightly at the thought of someone finding her – seeing her… there's _no_ way that wouldn't make headline news.

And he just… he doesn't want that for Rachel.

So he makes a snap judgement; he's convinced that the thought is instantaneous, and he doesn't even know he's thought of it until he's said it. "Do you need a place to stay?"

* * *

><p>Rachel honestly can't believe this.<p>

She's in the home of Noah Puckerman, the man who got her hopes up faster than any before, and crumpled them down just as quickly (and all the harder, too). She steps inside the small apartment, instantly confused. Isn't he a blue blood like her? Typically blue bloods have money and well, this place certainly is a fixer upper.

But her eyes are instantly drawn to something, and she's storming toward it the next second. "I knew that you played something!" she excitedly points to the drum kit in the corner, turning to Noah with an 'I told you so' look. The way half his mouth tugs up into a smile reminds her why she fell so easily for the man, and Rachel tears her eyes away from him.

This is all just for convenient's sake. So that she doesn't have to use her Daddy's credit card just yet and so she won't be found. Honestly, the last thing she wants is to be confined to the house again when she's _just_ been given her first taste of freedom. She smiles as she thinks back to the park, eyes glistening happily, because it was better than she'd ever imagined.

He gives a small chuckle, closing the door behind him. "Ah, you got me. What can I say?"

"You pretended that you couldn't play them," she points her finger to him accusingly.

"I was just messing with you."

She smiles then, lowering herself to his comfortable couch, though she grows wary once more when she notices his thoughtful expression, "what is it?"

"I really am sorry, you know."

The reminder of her most recent rejection has Rachel's heart breaking all over again, but she plays it off with a shrug. "Don't worry about it. I mean, despite everything I always knew in my heart that no one could truly accept me… I'm just – yeah."

"No," he counters strongly. "Rach, it's not – it's not like that."

Her eyes are sad, "you don't have to lie to me. I get it." Honestly, who in the world would want to marry someone like her?

He shakes his head vigorously, reaching out to hold onto her arm. She shrugs it off. "Look, I want to help you, but I _can't_."

Not eager to relive the pain, she hurriedly gets out, "Is there anywhere that I can sleep? I've been up all night, and I'm exhausted." Noah visibly deflates, his chance to explain himself ripped out from under him, yet he gives a diligent nod and begins leading her through to a small bedroom. One that she assumes to be his, with soft blue bed sheets and a tall view over the City that she's fallen in love with. "Thank you," she whispers to him, though she isn't sure whether he catches it through the thick scarf. He smiles anyway, hesitating for a few minutes before leaving her.

Rachel does the same, eyeing the door as though he's going to step back through it. But he doesn't, and she allows herself to relax, to formulate a new plan. In all honesty, her decision to leave had been rash, the execution leaving much to be desired. It'd _worked_ though. And here she is, in the middle of New York, and _free_.

Her fingers linger around the edge of the scarf, until she works up the courage to remove it. Noah won't come back in, not when she's supposedly sleeping. In a matter of seconds, the scarf is a crumpled mess on the bed, and she smiles as she can finally breathe properly. Eyes wide and naïve, she pads over to the window, sitting herself on the ledge.

It's not the best view of the City that she's ever seen, but it's a view nonetheless, and she finds herself sighing softly as she stares out in wonder. Her fingers reach out to touch the cold pane of glass, watching it fog up slightly from her touch. Her heart feels more content than ever.

She mulls over Noah's words, trying to make sense of them. He doesn't offer anything other than he 'can't'. What does that mean? Why can't he? If the tables were turned, she'd do anything to help a fellow being be normal again, without a thought second. And, she thinks with a heavy heart, for a little while – before he saw her – she actually thought that he might be the one to break the curse.

Her eyes drift over to the door separating her and Noah. Though he'd reasoned offering her his place as temporary hide out, she is sure that there is guilt behind his actions.

While she's thankful… she's also confused.

He's not like the others; he didn't run or scream when he saw her. He – he just stared, and she feels herself shiver as she remembers the moment. Casting one final glance to the cityscape over her shoulder, she lowers herself to the plush bed. It takes her all of ten minutes for the exhaustion to sweep her off her feet and carry her into a gentle slumber.

* * *

><p>"Jesse, calm down," Artie say without much concern in his tone. Honestly, this bozo is starting to get on his nerves. How is he s'posed to pull this off with Prince Harry here crying and whimpering like a little girl?<p>

He continues his pacing. "But what if she's coming after me? She could be hunting for me right this second!"

Throwing him a look of utter disbelief, he says, "_Hunt_ you?"

"Pigs hunt, right?" he asks.

"Truffles, yes. People_, hell no_! What's wrong with you?" He throws down the newspaper to the table, the noise startling Jesse. For a moment, Artie's eyes catch sight of the front page. He almost allows himself to feel guilty, then remembers his life long quest to expose this story. A little bit of sympathy is _not_ going to rob him of it.

The creases in his forehead deepen, "I don't get it. Where is she?"

"Probably thinking up what she's going to do to me when she finds me," Jesse continues to lament. Jeez, does this guy know any words other than _me_?

"She escaped yesterday." He ignores Jesse's worries, "so she's been alone in the City for almost a full day now. I find it hard to believe that nobody's noticed anything yet." He eyes the picture again, "something just doesn't add up."

"Well we better find her soon!" he begins, "my father thinks I'm going through a mental breakdown. It's embarrassing."

He gives him some serious side eye. "Yeah, _that's_ embarrassing." Artie returns his attention to the paper, a deep determination in his eyes, "We'll find you, Rachel Berry." She's got to make a mistake one of these times and then? Then he's finally going to get his time in the spotlight.

* * *

><p>Finn hesitates outside the door, hand mid-air. What if she's still sleeping? But it <em>has<em> been a few hours now, and he doesn't think he can wait any longer. He wants to talk to her; he wants to know more about this girl who just appeared in his life and changed his view of the world forever.

So he knocks, then once more when there's no reply.

"Rachel?" he calls through softly. Again, nothing.

Taking a breath, he dares to open the door. He spies a sleeping figure under the sheets, completely still and serene. He says her name once more, stepping further inside when his feet get caught on something. Glancing down he realizes that it's her scarf, the same one that she'd been using to conceal herself since he found her.

He stops. Heart pounding, he lets his gaze rise from the floor and up to the bed where she's soundlessly sleeping. Conflict tugs at him; he should leave, since she's clearly tired and she'll be pissed if she knows he's in there without her permission. But… he _has_ to see her again.

He doesn't know what it is – probably mere human curiosity – yet it carries his feet toward the bed. Though her face is pushed into a pillow a little (and yeah, she's totally drooling on it. He doesn't care though) he can still see her. _All_ of her. Those plump lips and the soft skin and… and her _nose_.

It's totally surreal and new, and he's convinced that his eyes are playing tricks on him. Because there's _no_ way that this could happen, right? Curse or no curse.

He can't take his eyes off her. He's transfixed, _mesmerized_. Just as he was the first time. . . Before she'd ran away from him. Before she'd called herself ugly and hideous, and how on Earth does she believe that? Okay, maybe things aren't, you know – _ideal_. But she is by no means ugly. Just, different. Yeah, she's different, one of a kind.

And – _shit_, she's waking up.

Rachel's eyes open just as he's stepping back, but the damage is already done. Those same eyes stare back at him in complete horror, panic spreading over her face. Shooting up in the bed, her hand comes to sit over her nose and suddenly blocking it from his view. "I- I," he stammers, "I made you something to eat." He then goes to point to the door, "Just out here, so I'll – I'm sorry, I'll go."

He's out of there faster than a bullet, heart pounding. When she comes out moments later, he's sad to see the scarf on her again. It looks a little silly, seeing as she doesn't have her coat on still, only a pretty pink dress.

He smiles at her, and he's sure that he can see a smile of her own in her eyes. "How long was I asleep for?" Both pretend that a few moments ago hadn't just happened.

"A few hours," he says, moving over to the small kitchen area where there are two plates of food waiting. He isn't sure why he'd waited to eat with her, but he had. Now looking to the food, he feels his stomach grumble. She must hear too because she gives a series of small chuckles.

But with food comes another obstacle, one that she clearly doesn't want to face. But she can't exactly eat properly with that scarf attached to her face, and after the reaction he's just had he can hardly see her wanting to eat in front of him, either. She hesitates. Then in a firm voice she says, "I'm eating in your room."

That's it. To the point. He hates the way disappointment rolls through him in waves. He'd kind of wanted to eat with her.

"Rachel," he starts, but she's quicker. "Rach, come on. I've already… you know, seen you so you don't have to like, hide from me."

She slams the door behind her.

He calls her name once more. "Please, _Rachel_."

After a few more minutes, he sighs and lets annoyance surge through him. "You know, you kept saying how much you wanted to be free from your house and parents, but now that you are you've just gone back to hiding again!"

Without even considering his own food, he throws himself onto the couch in a huff, face strained and heart longing for her to come out.

* * *

><p>Rachel finishes off her meal with Noah's words weighing heavily over her. Contemplative, she reaches for the scarf again, placing on her coat. She moves out of the room and puts the plate alongside the still full one on the counter, then looks to Noah with determination in her eyes. "We're going out," she says adamantly.<p>

His head snaps up from the TV, forehead creasing. "We're what?"

"You're right. I'm in _New York City_ and there's so much stuff to do. So come on, let's get going!"

Noah looks doubtful, albeit a little confused, and she uses her biggest, widest and more pleading eyes on him. His resolve quickly starts to fizzle away, "well… where do you want to go?"

Her face practically glows as she says, "Broadway, Noah. I don't care what it is or how much it costs, I want to see a Broadway play. _Please_."

He rubs the back of his neck thoughtfully, "you won't be able to get good tickets last minute."

"I don't care." It's better that less people see her anyway.

"And I don't know if I can afford –"

"Never fear," Rachel produces a credit card, her daddy's to be exact, and grins, "I have all the money we need."

"Alright." He relents, though with a half-smile that makes her heart flutter unexpectedly, "just let me clean up a little and we'll go."

Half an hour later and they're headed toward the _Gershwin_ theatre, Rachel unsure of exactly when she'd looped her arm with his, but sure that she'd done it at some point. It's busy, almost scarily busy. Though that's half the excitement; _so_ many people and things to see. Glancing up, she catches him staring down at her in a way that makes her stomach twist and her own smile widen.

He pretends to be Hiram Berry as they buy the tickets, and she laughs when he orders a _lot_ of food at the concession stand. She herself only has eyes for the fan merchandise on sale, and Noah has to stop her from buying everything.

But eventually they're sat down, nestled between fewer people on one of the higher tiers. Noah switches seats with her so that she can see over the people in front of her (it's just her luck that she'd be sat behind a giant, no offence Noah). She's so fascinated by all of it that she ignores poor Noah a little, even going as far as shushing him when he distracts her train of thought.

She does calm, though. Much to his relief. While she's swept up in the growing anticipation of the crowd, she manages to turn to him, finding that he's already watching her. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with that scarf on?" he asks, "It's warm in here."

Rachel nods. If it takes getting a little too hot to watch a real Broadway play, then she'll take it. _Happily_.

As the play goes on, she laughs and cries, and is swooned by the entire thing. The top of her scarf is damp with her tears, Noah laughs at her every so often, but she just can't find it in herself to care. This is – it's the best day ever.

And as Noah starts walking them back to her apartment, she echoes just that. His face lights up in the way that she loves; it doesn't seem as tired all of a sudden. "You think so?"

"Hmmm, I've never felt more . . . _free_ before. Thank you."

"Hey, you paid for it."

She looks to him tenderly, "no, I didn't mean it like that." Noah grows bashful then, a cute little blush crawling from his cheeks all the way to his ears.

Rachel leans in that little bit closer to him. For a sweet little moment, she completely forgets about the curse and the matchmaking – and the heartache of the past few days – and she feels _normal_.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that she trusts Noah. Not in a 'she has to because he's her only ally right now' but because she truly, genuinely trusts him. And when they return back to his dingy little apartment, she takes a deep breath and moves to take off the scarf, too. He turns from shrugging off his own jacket, jumping a little in surprise. Rachel can't bring herself to look in his eyes. "Please don't freak out," she practically whimpers.

"I – um," he clears his throat, "I won't. I promise." She hears the floorboard creak as he takes a step forward. That's when she looks up, finding wide, fascinated eyes looking to her. But she doesn't feel like she's some freak show like every other time before. Those whisky eyes look much further, past her nose, instead locking onto her eyes and looking deep inside of her.

Rachel suddenly finds herself breathless. Especially when he dares to move another step. She counters with her own backwards. "No," he balls up his fist in frustration, eyes closing. "Don't be scared Rachel." The words are heartfelt. "Please."

And though she doesn't know what he's pleading for, she can't say no to him. He closes the gap between the pair, her breathing just as heavy as his, and then she feels it; his calloused fingers are touching her – touching her _nose_. But he isn't panicking or freaking out. He's just stood there, almost in awe.

When he takes too long to say anything, she finds a defence mechanism kicking in, the words, "I'm ugly," falling out before he can say it himself.

He gives a slow shake of his head, eyes meeting her in a look that steals away her breath. "No, you're not. You're really… you're not ugly, Rachel."

She's never felt more exposed before, her complete soul there and waiting for him to do what he wants with it. But the next thing she knows the pressure of his fingers is gone, the burn of his gaze lifted, and he smiles that damn half smile.

She doesn't know what else to say, and panic bubbles through. "I'm hungry," she tells him.

He hesitates.

"I can pay. We've still got some money left from tonight."

"Okay," Noah smiles, then gives her a teasing look, "but you don't know what it's doing to my ego with you paying all the time."

She laughs sweetly. "We're not on a date, Noah."

"…yeah." He snaps out of whatever thoughts he has quickly, "Well, Rachel Berry. I think it's time I show you how we eat, New York style. What's your favourite pizza topping?"

Rachel smiles. She doesn't think that she could stop if she tried.

* * *

><p>Leroy Berry gently rubs the shoulder of his husband, expertly shushing every attempt the man has to begin worrying. He knows Rachel and he knows how smart she is, and while he is of course concerned about her and wants her home, he knows that his little girl is going to be safe.<p>

Now if only his husband could realize that, too. "What if someone finds her? Oh Leroy! Anything could happen. She could be anywhere right now, with _anyone_. What if she gets hurt?" He gasps, "what if someone sees her and this . . . reporter gets hold of my baby?! I will not have it!" He throws the newspaper into the trashcan, finally. Leroy feels offended just looking that at. That monster on the front is _not_ his sweet, loving daughter.

When the phone starts to ring, he gets there before Hiram. Which is good because the last thing someone needs is this crackpot talking to them right now. "Hello," he says, daring to hope that it's Rachel.

It's not.

"Hello Mr Berry. Sorry to bother you, but there's been a development."

"A development?" he asks with concern, ignoring Hiram's incessant request to put him on speakerphone.

"Your husband's credit card was used at the Gershwin Theater this evening, where two tickets were bought."

"The Gershwin Theater?" he asks, but really it's no surprise_. Of course_ Rachel went there.

"We'll look into it, Sir. Rest assured that we will find your daughter."

"Thank you officer," he says calmly, before letting the phone hang up. Hiram is on him like a flea on a dog.

"What is it? Where is she?"

His hand returns to the man's shoulder, soothing it. "They haven't found her, honey. But she went to the Gershwin Theatre."

Hiram perks up, "she did?"

"Yup, her and somebody else apparently."

The confusion grows thicker. "She's with someone?"

"She's with someone," he confirms, though he isn't sure whether that assures him or scares him.

* * *

><p>"Go long!" he calls, throwing the football across the apartment and into Rachel's waiting arms. She manages to trip over her own feet, landing on the hard floor with a thud. But when he goes over to check on her, all he hears is hysterical laughing. She pulls herself up onto her arms and throw her head back with laughter. She's laughing so hard that she even snorts a little, and when she stops, pausing to see if he noticed with a suddenly anxious expression, she finds him chuckling too.<p>

That sets her off again, the giddiness contagious. And honestly? It's just nice to see her let loose for presumably one of the few times in her life.

He stretches out a hand to help her up, smiling when she takes it. He needs another break though; all this goofing around is making him hungry. Even though they've already polished off one pizza between them.

There's another one to go still. Go big or go home, as he'd said.

As the pair fall into comfortable spots, she beams toward him. "I've never had this much fun," she confesses. He realizes moments later that he doesn't remember the last time he's had that, either.

"Hmmm," he smiles, slowly eating some of the cold pizza.

"You never said what you did, you know." He turns to Rachel, finding probing eyes staring back at him.

"Excuse me?"

She tilts her head. "Do you not want me to know?"

He purses his lips together, eyes unsure. "I'm a singer," he says after a long beat.

"A singer?" her smiles widen excitedly.

Finn nods, "I pay the rent by performing at bars… pubs; anywhere that'll have me really."

"Why do you look sad?" she frowns, confusion making itself known. He holds back then, not really sure that he's ready to share everything with her yet. Jeez, he only met his girl a few days ago.

"Just thoughtful."

"Stop trying to get out of telling me."

"Just…" he frowns, "I ate too much. I feel a little sick." And she's totally smart, so she knows he's lying, but he doesn't want her to know about the poker. He doesn't want her to look at him the way other people do.

Disappointed, she bows her head. But then says timidly, "this pizza is really good."

His smile returns, "I know, I could eat like, _ten_ to myself."

"No you couldn't," she laughs.

"Wanna bet?"

Her eyes dance with happiness as she watches him, a content look that he finds himself falling for all too quickly. Rachel tusks, and starts picking at the pieces of sweetcorn on her pizza, "what would my parents think of me if they knew I was out here alone and gambling?" She laughs, though the humor is lost on Finn.

He puts a smile on for her sake still. And then a question pushed past his lips. "So you've never been out of the house before? I mean, for real. Not just into the yard or something."

She stiffens. "I – I was home-schooled all my life. I got a degree in English literature when I was seventeen, and I can fluently speak _four_ different languages, but no, until last night I hadn't left the house."

"Wow," he reclines into the seat, "that – it must have sucked."

"Well I doubt that this would've gone down well in a public school." She points to her nose, shoulders slumping. "It'd be one step away from being all pink and having a tail, too."

He feels bad when he chuckles, since he expects her to react in a negative way. But her voice is sweet as she asks, "What's so funny?"

"I – just thought of the tail. It'd . . . it'd be cute, Rach." He stifles another laugh.

"It'd just complete this look that I'm going for," she joins in, "it'd be great. I wouldn't have to even dress up for Halloween." His laughs grow, contagiously so and it isn't long before she's joining in too. She suddenly gives a dramatic groan, though still grins, "if my Daddy heard my saying that he'd be mortified."

"What?"

"Oh yeah," she nods, "he made Papa stop eating bacon when I was born."

Finn shakes his head, "no way am I giving up bacon."

"Didn't ask you to," she says childishly. In his own bout of immaturity, he shoves her. Only to get one in return.

"Hey!"

"I am stronger than I look, Noah." He deflates a little when she calls him by that alias, and he wonders whether it's time to tell her the truth. That he isn't some blue blood called Noah Puckerman, he's a down and out singer who spends any spare cash he has losing at poker. He realizes with surprise that he doesn't want her to lose any respect for him, he likes the way she looks at him. Through fresh eyes, without the judgement and the cold nature. Though glancing to her he doesn't think she'd ever be on to judge another person, not with the hand she's been dealt in life.

He only snaps from his thoughts at the sound of her voice again. "Noah?" she asks, eyebrows scrunching together.

"Hmm?"

"… You were just staring." Rachel tilts her head, "are you okay?"

Finn nods, chewing on a bite of his pizza, "yeah, 'course. I'm just getting a little tired – it's been a long day, you know. I had to chase you around the park."

She laughs, a sound that he wishes he could hear all the time. "Well, I'll let you go to sleep soon. I think we could both do with a good night's sleep."

"Do you want the bed again?" he asks simply.

Surprise registers on her face, "Noah, it's your apartment –"

"I've slept in worse places than my couch," he chuckles, though begins to stand up. "Do you have some clothes?"

"I don't have any pajamas." She grows a little sheepish, "I forgot to pack them when I left." Finn only smiles, leading her back into his room and pulling out a long plaid sleep shirt and some shorts.

He eyes then up, then Rachel, "I mean, they'll be big. But you'll be comfy…"

"Thank you. So much." She bites her lip, suddenly saying. "I'm going to hug you now." The warning has little effect, because she's holding him tightly before he even registers her words, but that's the least of his concerns. The embrace has his heart pounding, the way her tiny arms are wound so strongly around him not scary, but rather comforting. He doesn't hesitate in wrapping his arms around her, too. Finn smiles as her head only barely reaches his shoulders.

When she tugs herself away, he looks into her eyes. And he doesn't see the curse then, he doesn't even think about it – all he can see is a scared girl who's ready to take control of her own life. He really hopes that she gets everything she wants.

* * *

><p>She slowly blinks awake, smiling to herself as she realizes that she's in Noah's room. She curls her fingers around the soft material of his pajamas that she's wearing, giving a content sigh. Rachel feels as though she's living a dream as she slowly sits up and stretches, then heads toward the door.<p>

Pulling it open slightly, she peeks out and smiles as she sees Noah. He's in the middle of cooking again, something for the both of them, and her heart melts a little as she spies all the care he's putting into it. She pushes the door further just as his front door shakes with someone knocking, Noah jumping to answer it.

Rachel shrinks a little when she sees the beautiful blonde girl on the other side, jealously sparking inside of her. Especially when she hears Noah saying her name so softly, and a smile on his lips. "Hey, Quinn, you okay?"

"Are you free tonight?" she asks.

Rachel spies him hesitating, and for a moment she wonders if it's because of her. "Uh, I guess. Why?"

"One of my acts dropped out and I need someone to fill a spot for me. You haven't played in a while, so I thought I'd give you a try."

"Oh, right. Well, I dunno."

She sighs, "come on, it's only one hour, a few songs." He continues to go back and forth, then this Quinn reaches out and touches his arm. Rachel only sees red for a moment, "Finn, come on. You'll love it – you always do."

Her heart suddenly plummets when she hears that – Finn? She'd called him _Finn_. Confusion surges through her, and doubt and worry, because she thought she knew him, she trusts him, and he's not even the man she thought he was. So consumed by her feelings, she doesn't hear the rest of the conversation until he's closing the door, suddenly turning to see her stood in the bedroom doorway. "Rachel," he starts slowly.

"What, _Finn_?"

His forehead creases, "Shit."

"You've been lying to me," she says straight, her voice cracking under the heavy weight of upset. He doesn't deny it. "_Who_ are you?"

He sighs, biting his lip. Then he spills. "My name is Finn Hudson. I'm… I'm not some big blue blood, or rich. I'm not even close. My family is from Ohio and I've spent the last three years in New York throwing my life away playing poker, okay?"

"Bu- but, why did you come to my house then?" She stutters out, "if you weren't a blue blood?" Guilt floods into his expression. She begins to shake her head, tears forming.

"Jesse –"

"_Jesse_?" she shrieks, "No, please tell me it's not true."

Finn's chest heaves, like it's suddenly hard to breathe, "I needed the money, okay?"

"You were going to try and expose my secret for _money_?" She feels like she's being ripped in two, hot tears beginning to stream down her face.

"Rachel, please."

"You're just like the rest of them!" She shouts, "and I – I _trusted_ you."

"You still can."

Her arms come to hug herself, crying softly. "How can I?"

"I broke the camera, Rach. I don't give a fuck about exposing you or any of that crap. Yeah, at first it was about the money but then I met you. And things changed, I didn't wanna do it anymore."

"How can I believe that?"

He steps closer, hands placed firmly on her shoulders, "you have to. Rachel, please – you have to believe me." She looks into his eyes, _trying_ to. But the betrayal weighs heavily on her mind, the fact that he was trying to help Jesse of all people. And that he lied to her, that's the worst part; that she thought she knew who he was and it turns out he's a completely different person.

Tears welling in her eyes, she rushes back into his bedroom, with Finn hot on her heels. "Come on, Rach. What're you doing?" he sighs as he watches her start hastily packing her things back into her bag. "Rachel," he calls her name desperately a game, "please don't go."

"I don't _know_ you," she simply says, eyes boring into his. The hurt on his face makes her consider her decision for a moment, before she reaches for her scarf and places it around her nose. "Goodbye."

"Wait! Don't do this."

"You should have just told me the truth." She pushes her way past him, pulling her suitcase along when he reaches out for her. Despite all her anger and upset, she stops and turns back to look at him.

His expression almost breaks her resolve, but she stays strong. "I'm – uh, playing tonight. I know you're angry and everything now, but if… if you change your mind then come and see me, okay?" He reaches for some paper, messily scrawling an address on the paper. "I just, think about it."

Rachel reaches out and takes it without a word. But before she turns around again, her eyes meet with Finn's and if she doesn't think about her heartbreak over the lies, all she knows is that he's made her happier than she's ever been.

Still, she _can't_ forget, not yet. And she tightens her jaw, then leaves without so much as another word.

* * *

><p>Rachel can still feel the heartache tearing her in two as she aimlessly walks around the City. In her melancholy, she struggles to find the beauty of it today, and finds herself blaming <em>Finn Hudson<em> for that. How could he just lie to her? Especially when the truth is something she'd much rather hear – that he can't break the curse because he doesn't have the power to, rather than because he can't bear the thought of marrying her.

You know, it's just common courtesy to _tell_ people things like that.

She holds the scarf tightly to her face today, not only to keep herself concealed but to avoid the cold wind.

Now, she doesn't have anywhere to stay – she is not going back in there with _him_ – and she can't use her Daddy's credit card again. As she lowers herself to an empty bench, she sighs and plans her next steps, unsuccessfully. Her mind is just confused and messed up, thank you Finn.

But then out of the corner of her eye, she spies something. Something that peaks her interest. Reaching out, she takes hold of the newspaper, ignoring the grotesquely drawn picture of presumably herself, but instead noticing one three words in particular. _Reward for pictures. _Her eyes then widen. They're offering $5,000 for a picture of her?

She reels at the revelation, suddenly overwhelmed by thoughts.

Rachel finds herself considering the idea more with each passing second. That sort of money could last her a while, because her dads are inevitably going to find her and take her back, and she'll do anything to keep that happening.

But… if she does this then the world will see her face, that one that her Daddy has so desperately tried to hide. Fear grips her; what if things go wrong? If people want to hurt her? Or, she thinks with a twinkle of hope, what if people understand, what if they _like_ her? The idea of being free is almost too much for her, filling the girl with a giddy excitement that she last felt with Finn.

Finn. As upset at him as she is, she remembers his advice with a small smile. Then she whispers to herself, "_What are you waiting for?"_

Rachel hurriedly goes to find the nearest photobooth. She has work she needs to do.

* * *

><p>Artie slowly moves himself into his office, yawning into the palm of his hand as he's still in the process of waking up. He's barely in the office when Sam pokes his head around the corner, holding up a large brown envelope. "Hey dude – you'll never guess what we've got."<p>

"I'm busy, Sam," he tells him as he starts shuffling through his notes and files. His office is a mess; ever since he and Jesse started this wild goose chase he's had hardly any time here. Speaking of Jesse, he'll be here soon. So Artie better enjoy the quiet before Mr Crazy comes in.

"No, seriously, you're going to be thrilled."

He leans back in his chair, "alright Evans, what is it?"

"You got your story," he says, throwing the envelope onto his desk. Confusion seeping into his expression, Artie moves to rest on his elbows, staring at it with a pounding heart. Sam's words replay in his mind, and he feels a sudden burst of excitement. They've done it. They've got pictures of Rachel. Holy shit, this is going to be the greatest moment of his life. No, no – _getting the story out_ is going to be the greatest moment.

With childlike excitement, he practically rips open the envelope, though is cautious with the picture. And he's ready to see the face that he's chased for the last twenty two years, and _there it is._

_But_ . . . that's not the face that he was expecting.

He didn't know what he thought it'd be like. From that glimpse he had years ago he knows that the girl has the nose and ears of a pig, but he never thought that she'd look so – so _normal_. Large chocolate eyes stare back at him, wide and uncertain. His breath hitches, hand coming to sit in front of his mouth as he stares at the pictures in sudden silence.

"The girl dropped them off in a hurry," Sam continues, "I wonder where she got them from."

"A girl?"

"Hmm, gave them in. Took the reward. And she was gone before I could even get a good look of them."

Artie's heart drops a little. He pulls out a piece of paper, using it to cover the lower half of the face, and then shows it to Sam. "Did she look like that?"

The blond struggles for a moment, nodding slowly. "…yeah, that's – she dropped them off herself. Why would she do that?"

"Maybe," Artie starts, a rare bout of guilt engulfing him, "maybe she's tired of hiding."

He's silent, thoughtful. Before he hands the pictures back to Sam, "get a story ready. If we're fast enough we can get this on the front page of the afternoon edition."

* * *

><p>She settles herself into the back of the bar, quietly confused as she wonders what'd possibly brought her back to Finn. She's angry, no – she's <em>furious<em> at him, but all she wants to do is talk to him again, and hear his life and see that stupid half smile.

Once she's asked the bartender for a straw with her beer – ignoring the funny look he gives her – she quietly sips on it. It's not what she'd imagined but it's an experience. Her eyes are drawn to the few newspapers scattered about the place, staring at the picture of herself. It's a drastic change from the artist interpretation and she… she doesn't look that bad, she thinks.

But now it's out. Her secret is out and her face is all over New York City.

They're not scared though. They're… dare she say, curious. Wanting to see more of her. And she'll take that over running any day.

Her attention is dragged away as the blonde from this morning shows up on the stage, introducing one Finn Hudson. He looks sad, tired. Her heart aches to be near him again, but she abruptly puts a stop to those feelings. He lied to her, he only did all of this for _money_. But, she thinks as she chews on her lower lip, he didn't have to give her a place to stay, or take her to watch a Broadway play. He – he didn't have to do any of that.

Conflicted, she listens with a sad heart as he strums some sad notes on his guitar, then readjusts the strap. When he starts to sing, her face softens. Any remnants of why she's angry at him suddenly gone. Finn's voice is so silky, and so sincere. It hovers through the room which quiet power as she sits frozen in the spot, in total awe and wonder of Finn Hudson.

She doesn't know who he's singing for, but it's obvious that it's someone. All her years of training and performances to her dads make her the expert on that subject. For a fleeting moment, she dares to think that it's for her. But no, he doesn't care about her in that way. How could anyone?

Even with being hidden in the shadows, Finn's eyes manages to see her. They widen, almost impossibly, and his beautiful voice is gone. Only briefly. "Rachel!" he shouts, putting an end to his concert. He's on his feet then, expression pleading, "Rachel, I need to talk to you." Confusion spread amongst the audience, but Finn doesn't seem to care as he tugs off the guitar and jumps from the stage.

Her heart leaps out of place, drink forgotten as she's rushing out of there without even giving Finn a chance. She knows that he's faster than her – she'll never forgot that moment at the park – so this head start is needed. Her little legs don't stretch long enough and she can hear him calling her name. As she rounds the corner, there's another reason to panic.

Her _dads_ are there. Rachel feels her heart break at how exhausted and upset they look, desperately searching the busy New York streets for their daughter. As though fate, their eyes meet across the sea of people. Then they're shouting her name too, joining in with Finn's chorus from behind her.

She panics, and sprints out into the road. Rachel just about managing being hit by a motorbike, before darting away from the chase. The more the runs, the more she finds herself struggling for breath, the scarf constricting her more with each passing second. It gets so much that she has to stop, leaning against a wall for support while her other hand supports her suddenly aching head. Black begins to push into her vision, creeping at the corner, and an unknown force knocks her off her feet.

Rachel feels the cold sidewalk below her, and the last thing she hears is, "_someone get that scarf off her, she can't breathe_."

* * *

><p>"He won't go away," Leroy says quietly as he tiptoes back inside the hospital room. His eyes dart to Rachel who is sleeping soundly, and he finds himself breathing a sigh of relief that <em>she's okay<em>, but he knows that more damage is done.

Their secret is out. Everything that they've spent years trying to hide has burst out of its box in one big shocking story, Rachel finding herself in the middle of it. He takes hold of her hand, a lump blocking any more words from getting past.

"Well he can't see her." Hiram says definitively.

He pauses, "sweetheart, he's worried about her. What if he's her friend?"

"She has been in the City for two days, Leroy. She doesn't have any friends."

He hardens, "Hiram, stop it. She's not a little girl anymore."

"She's put herself in hospital."

"Because she was _scared_! Because she didn't want to go back home and live the life that she had, doesn't that say something to you?" Hiram stays quiet, a thoughtful expression perched on his face, while the other man just shakes his head, "it's all out now though… no more hiding."

He ears pick up soft whimpers from the bed, turning to find Rachel's eyes slowly opening. The blinks a couple of time, face scrunched up. "Ow," she grumbles, causing him to give a light chuckle.

"Rachel," Hiram breathes a sigh of relief.

"Daddy? Papa?" she asks, smiling. But it breaks his heart to see sadness in her eyes – she thinks they're going to take her back. "What… happened?"

Fingers curling around hers, he gives her hand a soft squeeze, "you fell and hit your head pretty hard. You have a concussion that the doctors want to monitor you for."

She nods, eyes still unfocused, then whispers out, "I'm sorry."

He loses any resolve then, pulling her quickly into a tight hug that has tears streaming down both of their faces. "Don't apologize," he strokes her soft hair, "we're just happy to have you back safe." She holds him back so tightly, just as she always does, and he kisses her hairline.

"Where's Finn?" Rachel whispers into his shoulder.

He jerks back, "Finn?"

"The man –" she breathes, "the one that was running after me, where is he?"

Lifting his gaze, he meets eyes with Hiram across the room, "the one in the waiting room?"

"He's here?" Her voice goes shrill, confused. He has to shush her again. As she reclines into the plethora of pillows, she lightly moves her head from side to side, "I don't understand." He doesn't ask her what she means; she's still recovering. He only squeezes her hand again. Leroy doesn't dare think about the reporters surrounding the building, all desperate to talk to her and take pictures. He can still her falling down in the middle of the street over and over. In all of this, he just wants his baby girl to be happy.

* * *

><p>"You've made me look like a dick."<p>

"_I_ did?" Artie questions. "I'm not the one who badmouthed the girl all around the City, St James."

"Did you not see the picture of her?" Jesse stresses, pointing to the newspaper on his desk. Artie's frown deepens.

He raises his brow, "whatever you think doesn't matter." He thinks of the last busy couple of days, "The public love her."

"She's a _pig_."

"She's a novelty to them, it'll die down." He tells him. Honestly, these things always do. Something even crazier always pops up, though he doesn't know what'll be crazier than this curse. "Though I guess your reputation with forever be tarnished, huh?"

Jesse's frown deepens, "just run a story saying I take back all that stuff that I said!"

"Yeah, 'cause that'll make things better," he rolls his eyes.

"Then what do I do!" The way he slams his hands on his desk manages to startle Artie a little, and he jumps back.

"Firstly, get your hands _off_ my desk. Thank you. Now there's not gonna be a lot of damage control that you can do, you screwed up pretty bad. But I can think of one way."

"_Which is?_"

"Calm down. And just listen." The man finally settles in the chair, looking to Artie with an expression of defeat, yet willingness. That's a change. And he's gotta say that he likes it. "Look, the only way you're going to not come across as some kind of heartless idiot is pretty clear. You seem like a guy who can wine and dine girls…

It takes him a few moments, but… "_Her?_"

"Yes, her. She, as in Rachel."

He recoils. "But I can't do that."

"And why not?"

"Because… because –"

Seeing where this is going, Artie puts a stop to his stammering. "I'm just telling you the truth. You know it'll work, too. So quit complaining and sort out your own crap."

His eyes darken, "you can't talk to me like that."

"I got the picture, that's all I need. This little… things," he points between the two of them, "is over. So go and curl your hair or whatever it is you need to do." Jesse stands in a huff then, well and truly chastised, Artie thinks with a grin. He watches him leave and barely manages to stop himself from giving a smug wave. Goodbye asshole.

His eyes move down to the picture again, watching Rachel's face carefully. She seems to be loving all of the attention on her from the paparazzi, though he guesses that he would too, after so many years of being kept hidden away. That guilt gnaws at him again when he sees her naïve face, and he quickly tries to shed it away.

* * *

><p>Finn throws down the paper, scowling at the picture of Rachel and Jesse taunting him in the corner. He hates seeing that dick with her, especially as he remembers the horrible things that man had said about Rachel. He'd said she has <em>fangs<em> for fuck sake. And then he looks to Rachel and god, she deserves _so_ much better.

He feels a soft hand on his shoulder. "Bad day?"

"Hmm, bad few weeks is more like it."

Turning, he attempts a smile for Quinn, but it's a sad attempt. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" she sits down opposite him, then eyes the newspaper on the floor, "I see everything is going swimmingly with the new it couple?"

He frowns.

"And that's what you're upset about?"

"God Quinn, you don't beat around the bush, do you?"

Quinn sighs, "You've been moping around here ever since Rachel started dating that idiot. It's not hard to figure out why."

"She can do better."

There's a soft pause, "like you?"

"What? I didn't – no one said that," he recoils.

That reaction gives her all she needs to know, and her thin lips curve up into a smile. "You're a terrible liar, Finn. I don't know how Rachel believed all the crap you told her." At some point, he'd spilled everything to the blonde about the true extent of what happened with Rachel, and now he wishes he hadn't. Finn slumps down. The woman's eyes are soft, "Finn, when are you going to admit that you like her."

"I –"

"It's so obvious."

"She has Jesse now," he frowns, "she doesn't need me. He'll… break the curse and they'll live happily ever after. And besides, she told me to leave her alone at the hospital. I lied to her, and then chased her until she passed out. Some Prince Charming, huh?"

Her features sadden, "do you really think that?"

No, _of course _he doesn't. "I want her to be happy."

Quinn looks to the paper, "and you really think this guy will do that? Sure, he's hot. But everyone remembers that article that he helped write. He doesn't love her."

"He can break the curse…"

"And?"

"And I can't, Quinn! I can't give her what she wants!"

The woman sighs, hand on his arm. "What if that's not what she wants?"

"All she ever wanted was to break the curse, to be normal," he looks at her like she has two heads.

"But what if she just wants to feel accepted, Finn?"

He pauses, silent. Her words hit home, because as much as Rachel would talk about the curse being lifted, he knew that she didn't care so much about the nose; she only cared about the way people reacted to it. She just wants people to love her for who she is. Finn heaves in a long sigh and then downs his drink. He has somewhere that he needs to be.

* * *

><p>Rachel feels Jesse's eyes on her throughout the meal, though she finds herself squirming under the attention rather than basking in it. When Jesse had first taken her out yesterday she'd been suspicious, but with the curse on the back of her mind, she'd agreed. After some probing from her fathers. And he's being nice, for <em>him<em>. Officially, they're dating; that's what's on the cover of every newspaper across the nation. But she couldn't feel less from the truth.

His father is there, too. And he's just one piece of work. She soon grows bored of his complaining and ranting, and begins to stare idly out of the window. She knows that people are watching – they always are. She smiles if she catches someone doing it, shocked when they smile back.

Honestly, this is a life she never saw herself having; the curse is something that she thought she'd be living with the rest of her life, a maiden until she dies. But now there's Jesse. And there's been hints of marriage, mostly from their parents. Every time it comes up she knows hates how terrified Jesse becomes, throwing all her progress away.

But once they're married, she'll be normal. No pig nose, no weird ears. Just… a normal person.

Though as she considers that, her heart breaks a little at the thought of being just that – ordinary. Right now she's enjoying being _special_.

The hairs on the back of her neck stick up, the feeling of being watched all too strong. And she turns subtly to see _Finn_ of all people at the window to the restaurant, and her heart suddenly starts racing. What is he doing here? After she'd dismissed him at the hospital she honestly never thought she'd see him again, something which truly tore her in two.

Finn is stubborn and sometimes curt, but he's also kind, decent. He… he made her feel like no one ever had.

And it's that pull that she has toward him that brings Rachel to her feet, mumbling something about going to the bathroom when really she sneaks off to meet him in the reception area of the restaurant. "Finn!" she starts, confused as ever, "what are you doing?"

"I needed to see you," he begins.

"And what, dare I ask, compelled you to do it while I'm on a date with Jesse?"

"He's not right for you, Rachel."

Her eyes burn angrily. "Excuse me."

"Rach –"

"How am I supposed to trust anything you say, Finn? After you lied to me."

He takes hold of her shoulders, so that she can't run away. "Okay yes, I lied in the beginning. But I really care about you." She halts, eyes looking up to him in confusion. She can feel tears poking at her eyes.

"You – what?"

She's heard that said to her before. Empty, pathetic attempts made by men to get her to reveal herself to them, but the amount of sincerity in his tones renders her speechless. Her brows lock together, eyes searching for any hint that he's lying. She can't find one.

Just as she's about to speak, a hand comes down on her shoulder. "Rachel." And then in a darker tone, "what are you doing here, Finn?"

"I'm talking to my friend," he says just as lowly. She feels her heart leaping as he calls her his _friend_.

"After everything that you did to her, I don't think you should be around my –"

"That rich," he snaps, "coming from you. What is she again, Jesse? A hideous monster." She bows her head.

"Okay, I've made mistakes." He says, "but I'm not about to make anymore, not where Rachel is concerned." He squeezes her shoulder, thought his action is hesitant, like he doesn't even want to be touching her. She feels her self-worth shattering all over again.

Finn tenses at the sight of it. "Yeah, well then prove it."

There's a moment's pause, the air tense. She can feel the anxiety radiating off of Jesse, and she looks to him in question, only to find him producing a small box from his suit pocket. Her heart stops, mouth falling open. Is he – oh god, _he is._

"Rachel Berry," he begins, a strain to his voice. He's really doing this, with Finn watching. Oh no. she can't bring herself to look at Finn, because he'll only serve as a distraction. When this is it, this is what she's been waiting for since she was told how the curse would be ended. This is what she's wanted her whole life. "Will you… marry me?"

She hesitates – Finn's eyes are so persistent on her that she's sure he's going to burn a whole in her skin. And then Jesse's looking, too. She pretend that she doesn't notice his terrified expression. Even more so as she mumbles out, "y-yes." This is it, this is going to be the end of the curse.

The ring is slipped onto her finger, and there's a murmur of noise surrounding them, but she doesn't care about that. Honestly, she doesn't even find herself wanting to see Jesse's reaction. She finally looks to Finn, who stares back as though she's just ripped his heart out.

If this is what she's wanted her entire life, then why does she feel so awful?

* * *

><p>Fuck Jesse. Fuck him and his stupid perfect face and his stupid life.<p>

And jut fuck him, okay?

After brewing in his own anger for a few hours, he slumps to his couch and drops his head into his hands. Two days. Two days ago Rachel said she'd marry Jesse and now they're on the eve of the wedding (he has no idea how they organized it so fast) and he's so damn _angry_.

Sure, she'll break the curse. But at what cost? Being married to that… that – _ugh_, he hates Jesse.

He despises everything about him, but most of all he despises that he gets to be with Rachel. And she deserves _so much better_.

Casting out a harsh sigh, he laments everything. Because all he wants is for Rachel to be happy. With Jesse, he doesn't think that's ever going to be a possibility. When a knock comes at his door, he dismisses it. If it's Quinn, she'll only tell him stuff that he already knows, and there's no one else that he cares about enough to open it for.

Massaging his aching temples, he just wishes that fate would have a different plan.

The frantic knocking is something he realizes he won't be able to ignore. Pissed off, he stomps over to the door to get it, only for his ire to dissipate when he sees someone that he certainly wasn't expecting to see tonight. "_Rachel_?"

"You care about me?" she demands as she pushes herself inside, then repeats in a slower and more confused tone. "You care about me."

He stalls, "what?"

"At the restaurant, you told me that you cared about me." Her eyes bore into his, hard and accusing.

"Yeah, I did."

"What do you mean you care about me?" she throws her hands up.

Finn frowns, "you came all the way across the City to ask me one question? Jeez, you're getting _married_ tomorrow, Rach." He slams the door closed after her and joins the girl in the middle of the apartment where her mouth is dropping open.

"I know that I'm getting married." That causes his to stop, to observe her. She's... she looks completely and utterly miserable. "But I can't get your words out of my head, Finn. Ever since the restaurant, it's all I've been able to think about!"

"And that's my fault?"

"_Yes_!"

He gives her a look, "how?"

"Because you – you said that you cared about me!" she points in his face, her own confused and torn.

"So?" Finn pushes her hand out of his face, beginning to walk away from her. She instantly follows him, determination burning away.

"So . . . so what does that _mean_, Finn?"

He twists around so that he's fully facing her, heart aching when he sees her desperately trying to figure things out. "It means that I care about you." It only stresses her further, Rachel's forehead creasing together in annoyance. "I _like_ you, alright? You talk way more than you should and you're a total know it all, but you're sweet and funny, and like, really smart." His heart swoons over the sight of the soft smile on her plump lips. He quietly repeats, "I like you."

* * *

><p>Rachel stares at Finn in complete shock, his words reaching into her core and touching a part of her heart that she didn't even know existed. She can't help it as tears start to choke her, a different sort of happiness overwhelming the small girl.<p>

His eyes widen, and despite his annoyance he rushes over to assist her. "What's wrong?" His voice is shaky, like he's worried it's his fault that she's crying. Well, it is. But not in a bad way. The complete _opposite_, actually. He likes her. Finn Hudson _likes_ her.

"Nothing is wrong."

His frown deeps, "but you're crying."

"These are happy tears, Finn. No one… no one's ever said that to me before, no one other than my dads have really cared about me. Y – You don't know what that means to me."

She suddenly finds herself in his arms, and she holds onto his as strongly as she can. Her eyes close, her heart gives a content sigh. "I like you," he repeats. "A lot."

"But I'm not – not pretty," she shakes her head in bewilderment. She saw Finn's friend, how stunning she was, and how is she even supposed to compare?

"Rachel."

"It'll be gone tomorrow though –"

"Don't do this."

Her voice is strained, "I'll be normal. Jesse will break the curse –"

"Listen to me –"

"I'll be pretty," she chokes out, her voice filled with tears. "I swear, I will be."

Finn's hands are suddenly on either side of her face, forcing her to look into his whiskey eyes. "Rachel, curse or no curse, you are _beautiful_." She tries to turn away. "No, I promise. No more lying to you, remember? And I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met." Finn doesn't let her look away from him, so she continues to stare at the man through her tears.

"Stop it –" she begs of him.

"Why won't you believe me?"

"Finn –"

His lips push her words back inside, strong and firm, and _loving_. She loses all defences then, opening her mouth further and loses herself in Finn. Those kisses are irresistibly soft, better than she'd ever imagined, and she feels drunker with every second, but is held firmly in place by the man. When she lets out a soft whimper into his mouth, it seems to egg him on, and his kisses become more forceful.

Eventually, she comes to her senses and tugs herself back. Breathless, she stares to him, and he looks back at her with eyes so soft that she swears she's going to melt right into his arms. But his eyes still look at her, with no hint of hesitance. He looks to her like… like she's _precious_, like she's rare and special and, she pauses, _beautiful_. For the first time in her life, she finally believes it.

Something changes then.

The air feels different, her inside trembling as some unknown forces take hold. And Rachel is powerless to stop, even as she clings to Finn. In a matter of seconds, everything is fading away.

. . .

She blinks.

"D-did I fall?"

"Rachel! You're awake!"

Giving a deep frown, she starts to pull herself into a sitting position, with the guiding hands of Finn. "What do you mean I'm awake?" she manages to focus her eyes then, recognizing his bedroom, "we were just out there, what are we – why are you looking at me like _that_?"

He's silent, breathless even. He gives her a smile that she has her heart racing. "Finn –"

"Shh, just – come here." His soft tone gives her goosebumps, and she powerless against his touch as he leads her over to the mirror.

Where . . . no, that's – that's _impossible_. That… "It's gone," she whispers, a shaking hand reaching up to her nose. But it's – _not_ hers. It's different, soft and smooth, and it's a real nose. Frantically she smooth her hair out of the way, checking her ears which are just the same.

A strangled cry pushes past her lips, but she can't stop looking at herself in the mirror.

The curse is _gone._

Sheer, honest tears begin to fall, and no amount of comfort and embraces from Finn puts an end to them. She has to wait until they run out, leaving her a sniffling mess against his side. But still, she can't tear her eyes away from her reflection.

* * *

><p>Her dads cry when they see her, and Finn totally has to stop himself from cheering when she dumps Jesse's sorry ass right in front of him (best day ever) before she announces her new plans.<p>

"I want to act, dads," she says as they sit around the large dining table. It's late, all of them tired from the long day, but he can see how long she's waited to say those words. Not only that, but how excited she is that her dreams are closer now than ever. "I want to be on Broadway."

"Rachel, we've known that since you were four years old." Leroy jokes, though Finn can from here that he's a little misty eyed.

She nods, smiling. Before she looks over to Finn, reaching out for his hand, "and I want to move out as well."

This news is a little more shocking, Hiram gasping. "You want to what?"

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, she stands firm. "I want to move out. I want my own apartment, please. Daddy, Papa. I've lived here my whole life and I need something new." Her voice grows quiet, "I want somewhere where I can see the park… the _City_, I want to be around people."

It's long and silent, and while Finn's notices her dads giving him sly glances every so often. "Rachel, you've never been on your own before," her Daddy starts, concern etched onto his face.

"All the more reason for me to do this."

"Baby –"

"I'm twenty two, dads. Please – I can get a job before I even consider Broadway, just to get me started. I have a degree, I can do this."

They still look unconvinced, so she pulls out the big guns.

Reaching over, she grasps hold of Finn's hands. "Fine, I'll move in with Finn then."

"Whoa, let's not get hasty sweetheart," Leroy begins, sending a dark look to the man. He's too busy grinning at Rachel's little trick. "Fine," he relents, "you can move out. But on some conditions…"

That's all she needs to hear, Rachel bursting from her seat and tugging both her dads into a tight hug. "Thank you," she squeals, and for a few moments their eyes lock onto each other. He's sure that the words are meant for him, too.

* * *

><p>He helps her lug up some more boxes – but thank god this place has an elevator – and steps inside the luxurious apartment overlooking Central park. When he steps further inside, he finds Rachel amidst a pile of boxes in the one bedroom apartment, unable to keep the grin off his face. "You okay?"<p>

When she looks up, he can still see that smile, but with nerves creeping in at the corners.

"Rach?"

"It's gonna be weird, living by myself." She looks to the door where her dads had gone through to leave her to unpacking. "I'm going to miss my dads, I've lived with them all my life."

"They'll come and visit," he reassures her. Honestly, with them two he's sure that they're going to be around at least once a day to check on her. "And besides, I'll give you company if you're ever feeling lonely." He slowly steps up to her, wrapping his arm around the girl who sits glumly on a box of books.

As she looks up to him, he has to take a minute. It's strange, getting used to her now without her old nose. He knows how stranger it is for Rachel, too. She'd been one way twenty two years and then another in a matter of seconds. He catches her staring in the mirror all the time, looking at her new nose from every angle. Sometimes he thinks she's scared it's going to come back. Smiling down at her, he gives a gentle kiss to the woman.

"I'd like that," she says.

"Hmm?"

"If you came to visit me a lot," Rachel looks to him, eyes sparkling, "I never got the chance to tell you, but I care about you too."

He feels his heart swell with contentment, dipping down for another kiss that she happily reciprocates. "So," she mumbles against his lips, "are we… what's going on with us?" For a moment, he sees that vulnerability again, and it break his heart.

Finn smiles, hands on hers, "I'd love it if you'd be my girlfriend, Rach."

She takes a few seconds, as though treasuring something that she never thought would come, and smile, "I think I'd like that, if you promise me that you'll be a better boyfriend than Jesse."

He feels jealousy spark within him, but gives a smile. "Is that really a competition, Rach?"

"No," she pouts, "he was horrible. Honestly, my first boyfriend and such a let-down. You better be an improvement, Hudson." Rachel pokes his chest playfully.

"Hudson? Is that how it is? Okay, _Berry_."

"Hmm, okay, I see your point. Let's just stick with Finn and Rachel?"

He grins, "Agreed. I like that, just the two of us. Especially now that the whole world thinks you disappeared."

"I want to be famous for acting," she states, "not my nose."

Ever so gently, he kisses her forehead, "and you will be, I believe in you."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed this, and I'll be working on my other fics in the meantime.<strong>

**Please review :)**


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